Authors: Rayven T. Hill
She went into the living room and sat on the couch and looked down at her son, who lay on the floor reading a comic book.
“I have to go out for a while, Matty,” she said. “Your grandmother will watch you while I’m gone.” She glanced out the front window, wishing her mother would hurry it up.
“Have fun,” Matty said without looking up. Then he turned his head and looked at his mother, a light frown on his face. “When’s dad coming home?”
“Your father won’t be home tonight,” Annie said, struggling to come up with a story that was mostly true. “He’s on a very important job, and it might take him a while.”
“Is he undercover?”
“Something like that.”
Matty’s frown deepened, then, finally satisfied with her answer, he went back to his comic book.
So far, Hank had kept the information about Jake being a fugitive out of the news. Annie was thankful for that, but she also knew it wouldn’t be long before someone in the press got wind of the situation. News like that always leaked eventually, and when it did, Matty would be sure to hear about it.
She could explain it away to her son, but her mother was a different story. Annie knew the woman would latch onto the news and use it to justify the negative view she already had of Jake. Annie was having second thoughts about calling her, but she’d had no choice.
When her mother finally pulled into the driveway, Annie went outside to meet her. She waited on the front porch as her mother strode up the pathway, a tight smile on her face.
Alma Roderick was approaching sixty years old and, despite her usual sour disposition, had kept a youthful appearance. Whenever she allowed her tight lips to unfurl into a smile, it could be seen she was still an attractive woman, much like how Annie would look in another thirty years.
After an obligatory air kiss, Alma stood back and frowned at her daughter, giving her the once-over. “Have you gained a little weight?”
“No, Mother. Not an ounce.”
Alma gave Annie another quick look. “So, where’re you two off to tonight?”
“It’s just me. Jake’s out on a job, and he’s going to be late. I have to take some stuff to him.”
Alma frowned lightly and then nodded as if she understood. Annie was glad her mother didn’t wonder why, if she was only making a quick delivery, she couldn’t take Matty with her.
“I might be late, and Matty has school tomorrow,” Annie added, just in case.
Alma brushed past her daughter and went inside, Annie following behind. No matter how nasty her mother could be at times, she always treated Matty like a prince, and Matty thought the world of his grandmother. That was something, at least.
Annie warned Matty not to stay up late, then grabbed the package she’d prepared for Jake and went out to her car. She called Jake’s burner phone and notified him she should be at the overpass in a few minutes.
As she pulled from the driveway, Annie felt a little nervous about breaking the law. She respected the law and the legal process, but this time, the law was flat-out wrong.
She glanced in her rearview mirror as a car pulled from the curb several houses behind her. The gray car looked like just about every other car on the road, and that’s what made her suspicious. Unmarked police cars always did. And this one, though keeping its distance, seemed to be following her.
She kept an eye in the mirror as she turned onto Main. In a moment, it was three cars back, and when she took a left at the next street, her suspicions were confirmed when it followed.
Circling around the residential block, she turned back onto Main and headed in her original direction, the unmarked car not far behind.
Annie wondered if Hank was aware she was being watched and followed everywhere she went. Hank was a cop, but he was also a friend. His parting comment to her had indicated that although he knew she’d be having some contact with her husband, he’d overlook it. To deceive her would’ve been a dirty trick, and she decided Hank wasn’t aware of the situation.
Of course, it might not be a cop, but Annie couldn’t think of anyone else who might be interested in where she went.
But cop or not, Annie had no choice—she had to ditch the tail.
She smiled. She knew exactly how to do it without drawing suspicion toward herself.
She drove casually along Main for two or three minutes, the car following, then she put on her blinker and took the second entrance into the lot of Main Street Toyota.
It was the large dealership where she’d purchased her new car, and she knew the property was packed, back to front, with brand-new vehicles.
Many exactly the same as hers.
She drove down a wide lane toward the rear of the building. To her left and right, new cars shone in the late-evening sun. Others cruised the lot, some being bought, still others in for service. All around her, prospective buyers took their sweet time while eager salesmen chomped at their bits.
When Annie reached the rear lot, she glanced in her mirror. The tail had just pulled in. She gave it some gas, spun along the back of the building, then circled around to the third row of cars and stopped. The tail didn’t appear to be following. He might be waiting for her at the front.
It took a few minutes, but Annie finally saw what she was waiting for. A vehicle exactly like hers had pulled from the service garage and was heading for the front of the building, down the lane where she’d come in.
Annie waited, then spun down the opposite side of the lot toward the other exit onto Main. She slowed at the corner of the building, then stopped, poking the nose of her car ahead enough to see the tail sitting and waiting, facing the other way, but no doubt keeping a close eye in all directions.
The other white Toyota appeared fifty feet beyond the tail, heading for the far exit and the street. Annie had no doubt that, for a few precious moments, the driver of the unmarked car would be intent on determining whether or not the vehicle was Annie’s. She could picture him leaning forward, squinting at the license plate.
Giving her enough time to ease forward and pull onto Main Street, leaving the tail wondering what had happened.
She smiled to herself as she hit the far lane and passed another vehicle. She kept an eye in her mirror, but the persistent gray car never reappeared. Would she see it again, its driver waiting and watching near her home when she got back?
A couple of minutes later, she eased onto Front Street, took the wide road south a couple of miles, then pulled to the side of the road short of the Richmond River overpass.
Jake stepped into view from behind a concrete abutment, a big grin on his face as he approached the vehicle.
“We’d better make this quick,” Annie said after Jake had gotten in and welcomed her with a smothering kiss. “This might not be a safe place to stop.”
“They’d never catch me anyway,” Jake said. “My legs are too long and all they’ll see is my back. And they’ll never shoot me in the back.”
“I would’ve been here earlier,” Annie said. “But I had to ditch a tail.”
“A tail?”
“I think it was a cop. Not sure.” Annie reached into the backseat, retrieving a stuffed grocery bag. She handed it to Jake. “There’s some food in there for you and Sammy along with the other stuff you needed.”
Jake opened the bag, peeked inside, and pulled out his extra watch and an iPad mini.
“Thought you could use the iPad,” Annie said. “It’s fully charged, but use it sparingly.”
Jake stuffed the tablet behind his belt and put the watch on. He reached into the bag again, removed a wad of cash, and put it into his side pocket.
“There’s five hundred there,” Annie said, motioning toward the money. “That should last you. It might not be safe for us to meet again until this is cleared up.”
“Soon, I hope,” Jake said.
“I hope so, too,” Annie said. “But there’ve been some new developments.”
Jake looked at Annie and frowned.
Annie continued, “Hank told me they found a burner phone in the backseat of this car when they searched it.”
“A burner phone?”
Annie nodded. “With a text message to Merrilla Overstone’s cell stating you were bringing her some money.”
“Not me,” Jake said.
“I know it wasn’t you. That’s just what the text said.”
“It was planted at the same time the photos were erased,” Jake said, scratching his head.
“There’s more,” Annie said. “The gun that shot Mrs. Overstone was the same one used in the bank robbery.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that,” Jake said. “We knew it was related somehow.”
“Hank also checked Niles Overstone’s alibi. It’s solid, but that doesn’t prove he wasn’t involved in this somehow.”
“I’d like to talk to him,” Jake said, then asked, “How’s Merrilla?”
“Still in intensive care,” Annie said, glancing at Jake’s attire. “Where’d you get the clothes?”
“Sammy picked them up for me.”
“Are you going to stay with him?”
Jake shrugged. “I don’t have much choice.”
“Tell him I said hello and thanks.”
“I will.” Jake grinned and gave Annie another kiss. “You’d better go.” He opened the door and climbed out.
Annie watched him disappear down the bank, hoping he’d be careful, then she pulled a U-turn and headed for home.
There wasn’t much she could do tonight, but bright and early in the morning, she’d figure out a plan of attack.
DAY 3 - Wednesday, 6:45 a.m.
LISA KRUNK ROLLED out of bed, determined to make the day count. She’d been following the story of the bank robbery as well as the Overstone shooting, and she was perturbed that, even with her array of contacts, she’d been unable to find out the names of the suspects.
There wasn’t going to be much of a story if no one was talking. The half-dozen short interviews with bank employees were practically useless on their own without some real substance to back them up.
Hank had been tight-lipped about both matters, and though she’d tacked together a couple of short pieces for yesterday’s news, they hadn’t even been remotely interesting enough to command the top spot.
She was finding it a continual fight to sustain her undeniable reputation as the best TV journalist this town had ever seen—and no doubt ever would.
After a quick breakfast, Lisa took her usual care in selecting the proper wardrobe. Her attire had to be eye-catching, yet professional. Then once her face was fixed to perfection, and her short black hair was stylishly arranged, she admired herself in the full-length mirror and set her mind to the day’s tasks.
The evening before, she’d found an indisputable connection between the two shootings. It turned out Merrilla Overstone worked as a loan manager at the bank that was robbed. Lisa’s first mission was to follow up on the connection and get to the heart of the story. If the two crimes were indeed connected, then it gave her twice the chance to make something out of it.
The problem was Mrs. Overstone was in the hospital, and though Lisa had employed all of her bountiful charm on the officer on duty outside the ICU, she’d been unable to get to the woman. After finding out Merrilla was incoherent, she decided a couple of camera shots would’ve been sufficient for the time being.
But that’d been a dead end, too.
And Mr. Overstone had been dodging her calls since this whole thing started. Apparently, he’d been spending most of his time at the hospital, and Lisa hadn’t been able to obtain access to the ICU.
When her cell phone rang, she hurried to the kitchen to answer it. The moment the caller identified himself, she knew her persistence was paying off.
It was Niles Overstone, and he wanted to talk.
“I’ll be happy to meet you anywhere you choose,” Lisa said. “I need to hear your story and put the vicious rumors to rest.”
“What rumors?”
Lisa thought quickly. She had to put him at ease and convince him she was on his side. At least, for the time being.
“Rumors you and your wife are deeply involved in something illegal,” she said. “I’ll put an end to it with your help.”
Overstone sounded confused. “I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“Where would you like to meet?” Lisa asked.
“I’ve been spending my nights at Richmond Inn,” he said. “It’s close by the hospital. My house is still sealed off.”
“I know the place. I’ll meet you there in half an hour,” Lisa said.
Overstone agreed, giving her the room number, and she hung up.
This interview was a step in the right direction. Mr. Overstone was closer to the story than other contacts she’d made, and she was determined to milk him for all the information she could get.
She glanced at her watch. The phone call had put her a couple of minutes behind. She stepped to the window, pulled back the curtain, and peered down seven floors to the circle drive leading into her apartment building. Her faithful cameraman had already arrived, and he was dutifully waiting at the curb below.
Lisa grabbed what she needed and headed downstairs, giving Don a curt hello and quick instructions as she settled into the passenger seat of the Channel 7 Action News van.
Don sped from the lot, and twenty minutes later, the van eased into the driveway leading to the sprawling Richmond Inn.
The Inn, built about fifty years ago, would never be Lisa’s first choice in accommodations. Its posted room rates and promise of free breakfast every day seemed attractive until one got a better look around. The almost-vacant parking lot suggested that choosy travelers had bypassed the establishment in search of a more desirable place to spend the night.
Lisa pointed. “Cabin seven. Right there.”
Don pulled the van into the parking spot in front of cabin seven and jumped out. He grabbed the camera from the back and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Lisa glanced at a white Lexus parked in front, then made her way to the room door and knocked.
A middle-aged man opened the door, a forced smile on his boyish face. He motioned them in, dropped into the room’s only chair, and sat with his hands in his lap.